Sherlock Assumes
by Brown Eyes Parker
Summary: "If she let you, you would worship her." Sherlock makes assumptions about Jane and Lisbon's feelings for each other. Sherlock/Jane friendship, Jane/Lisbon romance, A/U, and probably OOC. My first Sherlock story.


**Sherlock Assumes**

**A Mentalist/Sherlock crossover**

**By Brown Eyes Parker**

**Summary:**

"**If she let you, you would worship her." Sherlock makes assumptions about Jane and Lisbon's feelings for each other. Sherlock/Jane friendship, Jane/Lisbon romance, A/U, and probably OOC. First Sherlock story.**

**Author's Note:**

**I have no idea how to explain **_**this **_**really. . . except that I wanted to write a story where Sherlock called Jane out on his feelings for Lisbon. . . and that made Jane say something to Sherlock about the way he treated Molly. Bear with me please as I endeavor to write my first Sherlock/Mentalist crossover. Judge gently, but not **_**too**_** gently. . . I can't improve without constructive criticism. **

**Warnings: **

**Slight spoilers for the season 4 finale of "the Mentalist", but it's really vague. And I do mention (okay, make fun of) the USA show "Psych", if you're a fan of the show. . . sorry. I actually like the show. . . I just did it for the sake of the story.**

**Disclaimer:**

**I'm an American, so I don't think I'll ever own Sherlock. And even if I did get that chance, I don't know what I'd do with him. . . I'm not very good with men who act the way he does. Now, if I owned the Mentalist. . . Jane and Lisbon would not be together, but they'd be well on their way to happily ever after— wait! Isn't that kind of already happening! Any who. . . my point is, I don't own anything. I wish I did, but I don't.**

**.**

"Admit it, you _like_ her Patrick," Sherlock Holmes goaded the consultant.

"I'm not admitting to anything," Patrick Jane replied, giving Sherlock a pointed look. "I wish that you'd just drop the subject Sherlock."

"I can't," he said. "Because frankly, I haven't seen you this happy since I met you on your honeymoon with Angela. I do believe that she succeeded to finally do the one thing that I didn't think anybody else would be able to do again."

Jane shook his head. "You don't know anything."

"I saw the way you were looking at her during tea," Sherlock replied. "You'd worship her if she'd let you do it!"

Jane sighed. "Sherlock—"

"You finally caught the man who killed your wife and daughter," Sherlock pressed on. "Are you _really_ going to stay single for the rest of your life?"

"Why do you care?" Jane asked. "You're going to stay single for the rest of your life!"

"I'm different!" Sherlock proclaimed. "Women are a distraction that I simply do not need."

"What about Molly Hooper?" Jane inquired, raising an eyebrow at him. "I saw the way that she was looking at _you_ during tea this afternoon. I think that she'd worship you. . . if you'd let her. Actually, I think she already does worship you."

"She's an unnecessary distraction," Sherlock answered, his tone strained.

"But you do care about her," Jane said gleefully. "It's written all over your face!"

"Would you _stop _reading me Jane?" Sherlock replied, slightly flustered.

"Why? You do it to people," Jane answered. "I think you need a taste of your own medicine."

"She already loves you, you know!" Sherlock said attempting to gain control again. "She's loved you since the first day that she met you. Though, she's only realized it in the past couple of years. . ."

Jane rolled his eyes. "You can't just let it go, can you Sherlock?"

"What's stopping the two of you from getting together?"

"You tell me," Jane said dryly. "You're the _expert_."

"I seriously have no idea why you two aren't together right now," Sherlock replied smoothly. "That's why I'm asking."

"We're better as friends," Jane answered simply.

"That's _bull_, and you know it!" Sherlock said forcefully.

Jane looked taken aback. "Well. . ."

Sherlock let out a breath. "Why don't you just tell her? You already have once—"

"I don't even want to know how you know that," Jane said.

"It's obvious from the way she looks at you when you aren't looking," the younger man answered. "It's not all she thinks about, but there are times that it still crosses her mind and she wonders what you meant by it exactly."

"When?" Jane asked.

"When what?" Sherlock replied, furrowing his eyebrows.

"When does she think about what I said?"

"Ah yes. . . mostly when you do something particularly kind. She thought about it at the airport yesterday, when you helped her with her bags while somehow managing to get your own. Then she thought about it again today during tea when you made sure they had her favorite pastry."

"Those are tiny things that don't matter at all though!" Jane protested. "I've been doing it since the day I met her. You wouldn't know about it, but there is such a thing as being a gentleman."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, he had always respected Jane, because he never met anybody has smart as he was. But now he was beginning to think that he truly was the smartest man in the world (aside from that stupid man-child Shawn Spencer, but that was a _fictional_ television show that had no basis in reality at all.)

He cleared his throat and forced a smile. "I do know what a gentleman is Patrick. I just choose not to act like one; it's a waste of valuable time."

Jane chuckled and stole a glance in Lisbon's direction to make sure she was okay, because he had been neglecting her for most of the evening. She was chatting with Molly Hooper, John Watson and his girlfriend Sarah, but then she caught him looking at her and it was like they were the only two in the room. His stomach tightened and he turned his attention back to Sherlock, offering him a wan smile.

"You should try and act like a gentleman sometime," he said. "You'd be surprised at where it would get you."

Sherlock smiled. "Really, I'm fine."

"Okay then," Jane said, turning his attention back to Lisbon. She looked stunning under the bar lights in a red cocktail dress and her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

Sherlock's smile grew. "I rest my case."

"What?" Jane asked, turning his attention back to the British man. "Oh. . . I was just wondering. . . well, never mind."

"You should say something before somebody else does," Sherlock said. "She's a very attractive woman, I'm sure that she has her fair share of offers—"

Jane looked startled.

"_Not_ from _me_!" Sherlock hurried on to assure him, rolling his eyes. "I told you, I don't have time for women. But if I were an ordinary man, I think I would at least take notice of her and think about asking her out. Of course, lots of men are probably intimidated by you. . . so, maybe she doesn't have as many offers as I thought."

"Please," Jane scoffed. "There's nothing stopping her from going out with somebody if she wanted to. I've never done anything to make anybody think she was unavailable."

"But she isn't available," Sherlock replied. "I know that for sure, she already worships you. Anybody with eyes can see it. And I know what you're going to say, it isn't because you close cases. Good grief, you two really need to come up with a new excuse for why she keeps you around."

"How do you even know that's the excuse she uses?"

"John asked her earlier why she kept you around," Sherlock answered simply. "Those intrepid words were out of her mouth before he could even finish asking the question. That's when my suspicions about your feelings for each other were confirmed, one can never really tell what's going on from looks alone."

"Has anybody ever told you that you're too much?" Jane asked, shaking his head.

"Mycroft might have once," Sherlock replied thoughtfully. "But it isn't something that I am accustomed to hearing on a daily basis."

"Well, you _are_ too much," Jane said.

"But there _is_ more between you and Agent Lisbon than just friendship," Sherlock prompted. "Right?"

Jane shook his head again and released a long breath. "Really, I wish that you'd just _let it go_!"

"For my own ego Patrick," he wheedled. "At least tell me that I'm not imagining things between you and Lisbon."

"You are despicable."

"Me thinks thou doth protest too verily," Sherlock answered with a smirk.

Jane was about to answer when he noticed Lisbon heading towards him, with her purse in hand.

"Behave!" He hissed, nudging Sherlock in the ribs to emphasize his point.

"I'm not making any promises. . . _Agent Lisbon_, we were _just_ talking about you!"

"Really?" She asked. "All good, I hope?"

"Maybe," Sherlock answered. "Maybe you could answer a question for me."

"Don't Lisbon," Jane advised. "He's just looking to have his ego stroked, you might regret it if you let him ask anything."

"I just want to know if you love Patrick," Sherlock said innocently. "Do you Agent Lisbon?"

Lisbon's mouth dropped open, her head whipping in Jane's direction. "_What on earth have_ you been saying about me?"

"_Nothing_!" Jane replied adamantly, glaring at Sherlock.

"Well?" Sherlock asked, oblivious to the trouble he was causing as he leaned forward and studied Lisbon with his inquisitive eyes. "Do you love him or not?"

Lisbon took a deep breath, trying to gain what little composure she had left. "Of-of course I love him. He's my best friend. . . aren't best friends supposed to love each other?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Lisbon, you and I both know that your feelings for him run deeper than friendship."

She flushed a deep shade of blood, her heart rate sped up, and she looked over at Jane. "I hate to break up your little party, but I'm exhausted. Would you mind taking me back to our hotel? You can come back as soon as I'm in my room—"

"I'm ready for bed myself," Jane answered, making sure that Sherlock got the full effect of his disapproving look.

Sherlock smirked again, one hundred percent certain that by the time he saw the pair the next morning; they would have worked out whatever last issues that were standing between them. Waving goodbye, he got up and joined his friends at their table.

**.**

"Lisbon," Jane said, following her out of the bar and catching up with her quickly thanks to the fact that she was wearing high heels.

She whirled around to look at him. "What did you tell him?" she demanded.

"I didn't tell him _anything_," Jane swore. "Sherlock sees things people don't, and then he blurts the things out that he observes without thinking about what he's saying. I told you what to expect when you met him. Why are you acting like it's my fault."

"I wish I had never come," Lisbon spit out.

"Over something petty like Sherlock asking you about your feelings for me?" Jane replied. "That's ridiculous."

Lisbon's cheeks colored and she turned on her heel with every intent to get as far away from her consultant as possible. But he had caught up with her in a matter of seconds.

"What do you want?" She snapped.

"To make sure you get back to our hotel safely," Jane answered.

"Fine, but don't expect me to talk to you!"

"Lisbon, if it's any consolation, he asked me about _my_ feelings for _you_."

"What did you say?" Lisbon asked, stealing a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

Jane shrugged. "I said the same thing that you did, I care about you as a friend."

Lisbon looked disappointed for only a second, and then she straightened her shoulders, and smiled.

Jane frowned. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. . ." Lisbon answered.

"That doesn't sound very reassuring," Jane muttered.

She sighed and continued walking. "Really Jane, you didn't say anything wrong. We are just friends. We've never said that we were anything more than that."

"Sherlock is a jerk, only he could upset the delicate balance of a strong, nine year, friendship," Jane murmured to himself as he hurried to catch up with Lisbon again, catching her wrist when he had reached her.

She turned and looked at him, sighing. "Come on Jane, I'm tired! Can't we just leave this for tomorrow?"

"Sherlock says that you worship the ground that I walk on," he said.

Lisbon let out a short bark of laughter. "I don't think that Sherlock Holmes is a good influence on you, like your ego isn't big enough already, he's fueling the flames. Well, I'm sorry Patrick, but I won't help by telling you that I do worship the ground you walk on."

"He also said that I would worship you if you'd let me," Jane replied.

She laughed again and made a move to continue walking. "We're good as friends and partners. I think over the years we've come to silently agree that we don't want to muddy what we have with a romantic relationship."

"But you think about it?"

"Every day," Lisbon admitted as she stopped struggling to get away from him and looked up at the darkening sky. "And even more than that since that night in my office last year. But what does it matter? It won't ever work out."

"We could give it a try," Jane said.

"I think you've had too much to drink."

"I drank as much as you," he replied. "And that was a glass of wine with dinner. But seriously Lisbon, I've been thinking about it. . . and not just tonight, ever since that night in your office. I've thought about it ever since we caught and killed Red John."

"Well, you're pretty good at hiding it," Lisbon said.

"He's right, you know?" Jane whispered, pulling her flush against him.

Lisbon gasped at their closeness. "Right about what?"

"That I like you," he replied, tracing her jaw with his fingers.

"Oh," Lisbon whispered, closing her eyes against his touch. "We're friends. . . you're supposed to like me."

"No, I mean that I _really_ like you," Jane said. "It's the kind of like that leads to forever."

"Oh."

"Is that all you can say?" Jane asked.

"No," Lisbon replied. "I really like you too. . . in fact, I love you."

"Just remember that I said it first," Jane said.

She pulled away and smacked him playfully. "That night in my office almost doesn't count, because you just brushed it off the next day like you had never said it!"

He laughed. "Well, let me remedy that then. . . Teresa Lisbon, _I love you_. I loved you that night I said it in the office, and I love you now."

Lisbon smiled and leaned up to brush a tentative kiss to his lips. Jane sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as he reveled in the taste of her. . . the hint of vanilla bean Lip Smackers, the wine she had drank with dinner, and something else, a taste that was completely and utterly Lisbon.

A contented sigh fell from her lips, and he pulled away to look at her, realizing something. Sherlock had been wrong, he didn't need Lisbon's permission to worship her. . . he already did.

Lisbon smiled up at him before pulling him in for another kiss. She cleared her throat and ran her fingers over his five 'o clock shadow. "Remind me to thank Sherlock when we see him tomorrow."

"I will," Jane replied, releasing her and taking her hand so they could continue walking again. "I'm not sure he'll appreciate the gratitude though."

"Wow, you two are even more alike than I thought," Lisbon muttered.

"Not really," Jane answered, lifting their intertwined hands and kissing her knuckles. "He doesn't have you."

**_The End_**

**Author's Note II:**

**Yeah. . . so, really I have no idea where this came from. If this gets good reception, I might write a sequel that's a little more Sherlock/Molly-centric. And yes, Jane just might have something to do with them getting together. **

**Drop a review if you liked this. . . or to tell me what I did wrong. But like I said before, please judge gently because this **_**was**_** my first Sherlock story. And I just started watching Sherlock last week, so I don't really have a feeling for the characters yet! But I'm going to watch the first season, and try to read some fan fiction to do so. Anyways, I'm done rambling. Have a great day.**

**Holly, 5/22/2012_**


End file.
